


Curse of the Virgin Canvas

by HappiKatt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Blood, Moirail Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappiKatt/pseuds/HappiKatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My angel lie to me, and tell me I'm dreaming..." He's fading fast. That's all you know. There's blood everywhere, and you just aren't sure you can do what he's asking of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curse of the Virgin Canvas

He’s fading fast. That’s all you know, as you carry his limp figure as fast as you can. His blood - so red, so burningly bright - spills over your hands and arms, dripping down, coating the both of you. There’s one way to save him, maybe, but you gotta move fast...you don’t even know how he got like this, it happened too quick, but you don’t even motherfuckin care right now. 

All that matters is that you get Karkat to his motherfuckin quest bed before he bleeds out in your arms and all over the ground. 

You run, run like you’ve never run before. He barely moves, his head in the crook of your shoulder, the rest of him supported by your arms. His breathing is light and fast, and every few minutes, or every time you stumble, he coughs up more of his too-red blood. You can see where you need to get him, but it feels like your running isn’t doing anything, like you’re going nowhere, and oh god he just keeps bleeding...

Blood doesn’t normally bother you. It hardly bothered you when it belonged to Nepeta, to Equius, it didn’t even bother you that much when it was Tavbro laying there bleeding, but this is Karkat, your motherfuckin moirail, the one person who keeps your whole world from falling apart at the hinges. 

A motherfuckin eternity and an ocean of bright red blood later, you finally reach his motherfuckin bed. 

It’s cracked in two. But the pillars are still standing around it, and even though it’s more of a V-shaped stone now than any sort of bed, the symbol’s still clear. You hope that it’ll be enough. As you approach it, slowing down just a little, he shifts in your arms, looking up at you. All of you attention is immediately on him. 

He coughs again, and the red rivers running down the corners of his mouth turn into waterfalls. The coughing turns into a fit. You kneel, trying to comfort him, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s trying to say something, that his coughing has a purpose. “G....gam....” he chokes out.

“No, Karkat, shush. Quiet, brother,” you half sob, “don’t....don’t try to motherfuckin talk now, just try to keep...motherfuckin breathing, just hang on, please...” It takes everything you’ve got not to break down crying. He doesn’t need you crying right now, he needs you to put him on his quest bed and make sure he comes back when he dies, because you know you can’t save him from these wounds. Too deep, too many....so much red, red everywhere... And he the way he looks at you, he looks....

He looks tired. Dead tired. And the light in his eyes is a lit match in a freak storm, flickering, fluttering, sputtering, dying. And that makes your vascular pump just hurt with a pain you’ve never known. 

 

You get back up and carefully maneuver yourself onto the bed, because you’ll be damned if you’re going to just leave him there alone. His blood flows into the cracks of the broken rock, and you cradle his broken body in your arms, waiting for the end, watching him die. 

And again, a coughing fit wracks his scrawny frame - god, he was always small, but right now he looks tiny and fragile in your arms - as he tries to force something out of his mouth. When you try to quiet him again, he brings a shaky hand up to your face, his blood stained fingers leaving bright red trails across your cheek. “Gam...zee...” he gasps out, staring you straight in the eyes. There’s pain in his gaze, more pain than you can bare to see...But at the same time, there’s something missing. He’s dying, he should be scared, shouldn’t he? 

When you saw Tavbro’s body, the look on his face was one of shock. You don’t think he knew it was coming until it motherfuckin hit him.

Equius died like...well, like Equius. But he knew he was going to die, and there was fear. Nepeta died afraid, you’ve no doubt of that. 

Everyone who knew they were going to die, they looked scared. 

Why doesn’t Karkat? Why does he just look...peaceful, almost, behind the pain? 

He lightly tugs at your hair, and you guess he wants you to lean in close, so he doesn’t have to talk loud. You do what he asks. How can you not? This could wind up being his last motherfuckin’ request, what else can you do?

“Please...” he manages to force out, before more blood forces its way out of his lips. And then he...

He asks you to finish it. You can’t get his exact words, your think pan won’t register them. But you got his meaning, and it hit you hard, right in you chest. You look at him, shaking your head no, no, this can’t be happening.

“Please, brother, no, don’t make me do this,” you beg, indigo starting to obscure your vision. But he looks at you again, and he’s...

Smiling. Pleading with his eyes, through the pain that racks him, to the point where he’s crying, but still smiling through his tears....even now, he’s trying to be a good moirail, and keep you calm, even while he suffers. 

...And he is suffering. And you already know that he’s going to die no matter what, but you...you did your motherfuckin’ part, right? You got him to the quest bed, so he can....he can die now, and come back stronger...right? So, so why....  
He shouldn’t have to keep being in pain. But you can’t...he’s your moirail! 

His hand is still on your face, and he drags it up into your hair again, trying his best to make quiet little shushing noises. God, he’s just the best motherfuckin’ moirail in the whole world, and here you are watching him die because you obviously failed to protect him.

Regardless of who or what did this, he’s here dying, and that mess is one you made. 

His last wish is that he doesn’t die slow. It’s something you do have the physical capability of doing, and it should be easy, just a quick twist...

You start curling up around him, helplessly. You can’t deal with these motherfuckin’ emotions, it all hurts too much, mercilessly stabbing and throttling your vascular pump, and the whole time he doesn’t take his hand away from you face. His blood just keeps flowing, though, reminding you that you’ve got one last thing to do for him. You’re sobbing wretchedly, but you’re not going to let him keep suffering like this. You gently move one of your hands up under his head and neck, looking him straight in the eyes. And you can tell, through the pain in them, that he’s ready. He’s talking at you with his eyes, because he’s just too far gone to say anything more with his mouth, but his eyes tell you all you need to know. 

He’s not scared because you’re here, you’re the one holding him, the one who’s going to make everything stop hurting. He believes in you, despite everything you’ve done lately. And you...you can’t let him down, as much as it hurts. He’ll...he’ll come right back, anyway, that’s the whole point of the quest bed...And he’s asked you to do this.

Why is it so hard, though?!?

“...Sorry, brother,” you whisper, gently stroking the side of his neck. And then, holding your breath, you twist your hand.

He jerks once, in time with the tiny, sickening crack you hear, and his eyes widen. Then one last shaky breath leaves his mouth, and he goes limp. His hands slips down from your face.

You don’t bother trying to stop the tears as you rest him in the crack in the rock. Slowly, shakily, you gently close his eyes and mouth, wiping the blood off his face as best you can, trying to make him look like he’s just sleeping. You don’t know why you do, it just makes you feel a little better, like you can fool yourself that he’s going to wake up...

...Something should have happened by now. You look up at those orb things on the big pillars. Aren’t they supposed to...to glow or some shit? To light up and signify that something’s happening over on the dream world side of things? Why....Why isn’t it working?!

You stand up, looking around frantically, but none of the pillars are lighting up, not a single one-! This can’t be happening, no, not now...And right there, as you’re staring, one of the orbs cracks. The sound shatters you, as much as it shatters the ball. One last straw, one last omen....

Karkat’s not coming back. It isn’t working. 

You look down at your hands, at the red all over them, all over you, all over everything...It’s running in rivers along the quest bed, and he’s not sleeping, you can’t fool yourself with that. Too much blood, too much blood...

You can’t take it. You throw back your head and howl. You tear at your hair, shaking your head, not noticing the tears streaming down your face, mixing indigo with the red smears he left on your cheek. You try to run, because you just want to run forever, run and run until your body gives up on living, because that seems like the only motherfuckin’ way you can repent for what you’ve done. You wish the universe or this game or whatever would take your life instead of his. 

But you only get a few steps before you hit a wall. And even though you’re running the way you came, it’s like the background is overlaid against a steel wall, like it’s not real. You scream at it, hit it, claw at it, but you can’t get past. You just keep frantically striking at it blindly, gotta get away, gotta keep running or throw yourself off of a cliff, or something, but you can’t fight it, the wall’s too strong-!! 

And finally you’re just overwhelmed by it all, and your legs give out, and you slide down this invisible wall, still clawing at it, still screaming between your harsh sobs, only now you’re screaming out Karkat’s name, begging him to come back....

And just vaguely, somehow through all of this, you realize there’s the faintest sensation of a hand on your shoulder. You whip your head around, and at first you don’t see anything, nothing at all, but as you keep staring, a vague outline begins to appear, and the colors start to change, and then there’s...

There’s Karkat, right behind you, whole and breathing and not covered in his own blood. Worry is etched into his face, and confusion, and he’s talking, but you can’t hear him at first. You don’t wait long enough to try to. You dive at him, pulling him into your arms, begging him not to be dead. He doesn’t move at first. “What the fuck are you - ” he starts, but then cuts off with a gasp. It takes you a minute to realize why - you’re sobbing into his shoulder brokenly. You can still feel his blood on your hands, and you have no idea what’s going on. He slowly wraps his hands around your chest, and makes small noises of comfort in your ear. You just clutch him tighter, rocking back and forth, endlessly babbling about the blood, about him being dead, about you ending it and the quest bed not working and - 

He pulls back and puts a hand against your mouth. “Shhhh, Gamzee, it was just a bad dream.”

“...But...but the blood, Karkat, look!” you wail, waving a hand in front of his face. 

He catches your wrist, turns your palm toward you, and gently says, “Gamzee, I am looking. That’s not my blood on your fingers, it’s yours.” And he’s right, the stains on your fingertips are indigo, not red. “You skinned your fingers clawing at the wall like a fucking lunatic,” he half-scolds, but there’s no venom in his voice, no anger, nothing but compassion and a hint of worry. 

“But...But you were...” you choke out between the sobs you can’t stop from coming.

“I’m not dead, Gamzee. You were having a bad dream,” he promises, and rests a hand on your face. “It’s over now, it wasn’t real.” You lean into his touch, still afraid to believe. 

“But...I.......”

He sighs, and moves so that he’s next to the wall. You sit where you were, looking at him, hopelessly confused and lost. He takes your face in both his hands, and with little warning, presses your ear to his chest. “You hear that?” he asks, calmly. 

And you do, you can hear a steady rhythm emanating from the center of his chest. You should know by now what the beating of a vascular pump sounds like, but all you hear right now is a motherfuckin’ miracle. It’s strong, and steady, and right now it’s the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. “As long as that sound is there, so am I. Alright?” he says, petting the top of your head. You snake your arms around his middle, loathe to let go of him, wanting to listen to that noise forever. He doesn’t try to push you away. 

After a while, he lays down, one hand under his head, the other still slowly stroking your hair. You curl up next to him, arms still wrapped around his waist, ear still pressed against his chest. You listen as the beating noise reduces in tempo, but never once in strength. His breathing deepens and his muscles relax. This time around, you’re sure he’s sleeping. There’s no doubt.

It was a bad dream. But one thing from that motherfuckin’ nightmare is definitely true - you have the best moirail in all of motherfuckin’ existence. He’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a one shot I cranked out for a friend who was upset. It's pretty old by now, but I still sort of like it. The title and the quote in the summary come from a song called "Curse of the Virgin Canvas" by Alesana, which was the inspiration for all of this. I'm mostly using it to try and figure out how posting stories on this site works, but hopefully someone will enjoy it anyway. Besides, it's about time I worked on shifting the main place where I post stories from Fanfic over to tumblr and AO3.


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